


fucked in the think-pan

by karkatvantass



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Dave Strider/Karkat Vantas Moirallegiance, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, Karkat Hates Himself, M/M, Meteorstuck, Retcon Timeline, Sadstuck, Self-Harm, dave strider/karkat vantas - Freeform, davekat - Freeform, karkat really fucking deserves a hug and so does dave to be honest, this is really shitty
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-06
Updated: 2021-01-06
Packaged: 2021-03-16 10:56:10
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,145
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28580871
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/karkatvantass/pseuds/karkatvantass
Summary: Rainbows of blood.It’s fuchsia, it’s indigo.It’s two shades of green and it’s brown.Its violet and yellow and its on the fucking floor and its spilled and its on you.On your shirt, literally, on your hands, metaphorically.Karkat has a nightmare and is really fucking sad about his friends dying, and Dave comforts him and bandages his arms.TW for self harm.
Relationships: Dave Strider/Karkat Vantas
Comments: 5
Kudos: 43





	fucked in the think-pan

_Rainbows of blood.  
It’s fuchsia, it’s indigo.  
It’s two shades of green and it’s brown.  
It's violet and yellow and it's on the fucking floor and it's spilled and it's on you.  
On your shirt, literally, on your hands, metaphorically.  
You should have protected them. _  
  
You wake up in a cold sweat, heart racing. You’re shaking. There's an awful feeling in your stomach.  
Tavros, Feferi, Nepeta, Equius, Sollux, and Eridan.  
All gone because of your mistakes.  
You pull at your hair and scratch at your arms and it doesn’t even seem to hurt. All you notice is the freakish red liquid spread from your eyes and arms.  
 _Blood_.  
That's what got you into this mess in the first place.  
Your gross stupid fucking mutant red blood that’s now on your sheets.  
You grip your arms tight against your body and let out choked sobs.  
It hurts. It hurts so fucking much and it wont stop, you can’t forget it.  
You can’t forget what happened.  
 _I killed them._  
No matter how much you fucking try the nightmares are still there.  
They haunt you every waking and dreaming moment. You close your eyes and you see them. Bottled up feelings are crashing into you like waves. No, not waves, more like a tsunami.  
 _Please stop._  
It won’t stop. The blood has seeped onto your clothes now.  
Everyone would be able to see how much of a fucking freak you are now. They’d know how weak and stupid and how terrible of a leader you are.  
  
Your vision is hazy, but you hear footsteps outside your respite-block.  
Snapping out of it, you glance up to see Dave.  
  
"I heard crying, is everyth-"  
  
He pauses, taking it in.  
His response is slow, and he seems pretty shocked. You sit up, panicked.  
You clear your throat, trying to deliver a snarky response, but failing miserably.  
  
“Take a picture, asshole, it’ll last longer.”  
  
He sits down next to you and glances down at your arms.  
  
“Woah, thats, uh, a lot of blood.”  
There’s concern in his voice and he seems genuinely worried for you.  
  
"Yeah, no shit.”  
There seemed to be more bite in the words than in the delivery.  
He looked uncomfortable and his gaze darted across the room.  
He clears his throat nervously, trying to avert his eyes from the mess on your sheets.  
“What, uh, what happened? Are you alright? ”  
  
“I killed them. I killed all my fucking friends.”  
  
“Huh?”  
  
Your voice is quavering as you tell him about how bad you fucked up, how you let over half of your team die, how awful of a leader you are. It’s even worse that you feel like this because it's a totally normal thing for teenage trolls to kill each other, you’re just a weak little pansy who can’t deal with normal teen bullshit.  
“Oh look, I’m Karkat Vantas and my life is sooooo hard just because a couple of my friends decided to go batshit crazy and murder my other friends. Boo fucking hoo.”  
  
Tears pricked your eyes again and you let out a muffled whimper, covering your face with your hands. A weak attempt to spare what little dignity you had left after spilling all your problems out to Dave fucking Strider, of all people.  
  
“Woah, woah. It’s okay. I’ve got you, Karkitty.”  
He pushes his shades up and looks at you, his voice is deep and calming.  
  
"Listen, let's get you patched up first. I’m gonna go get bandages, alright?"  
You nod meekly, an affectionate smile forming on your face as you watch him leave your respite-block.  
  
But now you're alone. You're all alone again and it all comes back, crashing over you and you feel like you're drowning. He's gone and you're all fucking alone and it's all your fucking fault.  
And then suddenly you're curled up in a ball like you were before. You're rocking back and forth and mumbling to yourself (not so quietly) about how you wish you didn't exist.  
  
You didn’t notice him come back in, but before you could argue, Dave's patting your back and whispering comforting words to you.  
  
He unrolls the bandages and softly pulls your left arm into his lap. You watch his delicate fingers handle them, covering your wounds.  
You insisted that the scratches weren't even that deep and you could really just do this yourself but he hushed you and told you to let him continue. You obliged quietly.  
  
“Listen dude, I might not really understand the whole troll thing about murdering your friends and like, to my knowledge it could just be like totally normal puberty like getting pimples or whatever but I just want you to know that whatever happened, it wasnt your fucking fault, okay?"  
He puts his hand on yours.  
"You're not weak for being all distraught about this shit I mean it's a legit thing and like it's okay to be sad about it, you know?”  
You nod, too tired to disagree.  
“I know you did everything you could to be a good leader, and it wasn't your fault. This bullshit game we're playing seems to make up the rules as it goes along, it would have been impossible for you to prevent what happened."  
  
You look down. You want to tell him that no, it's not a fucking "legit thing" to be crying about. For fucks sake, it's like the troll equivalent to leaving your squeeze comfort creature at home. Well, maybe just a little worse than that, but still.  
You resist the temptation to launch in an angered swearing rant. Dave seems way too intent on making you feel better, and you suppose, maybe you'll let him.  
He does everything he can to hold you together when all you want to do is tear yourself apart.  
You look back up at him.  
His eyes are still exposed. A rare sight, he always has his shades on. They're bright red. Like your blood. They're bright red and they're beautiful and they're looking right at you, patiently waiting for a response.  
You try to say something, but words fail to leave your mouth. Instead, you lean on his shoulder and close your eyes, hoping that'll get across what you wanted to say.  
  
He holds you lovingly. You can't breathe, but in a good way this time. He's warm up against you, solid and comforting, arms around you and it's the best thing ever.  
Both of you were pretty fucked in the think-pan, and he had his low points too when you were the one comforting him. But just for a moment, everything was perfect.  
Even though your arms still stung and you were dizzy as shit, you were with him. Exhaustion swept over your body and you could feel yourself dozing off, but it was okay. You were safe and you were with him and everything would be okay.


End file.
